


Gomez the Painter

by helloitshaley



Category: Addams Family (TV 1964), Addams Family - All Media Types, The Addams Family (Movies)
Genre: BECAUSE THATS WHAT THIS IS, F/M, is sexual fluff a thing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26722345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloitshaley/pseuds/helloitshaley
Summary: Gomez wants nothing more than to have a nude portrait of Morticia. However, he is unaware of how difficult the process of getting that would actually be. He simply doesn't have the patience or the self restraint. Or the artistic skills.
Relationships: Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams
Comments: 14
Kudos: 61





	Gomez the Painter

The idea wouldn’t leave his head. It was something he mentioned offhandedly a time or two, not entirely meaning it. But the more he thought about it, the more he wanted it. The notion was dripping with romanticism. It evoked the idea of a Victorian love story, of tragic lovers passing illicit letters and gifts back and forth. It was classic, timeless, sensual.

“Gomez, no,” Morticia sighed over drinks late one night. They were seated on their balcony, the full moon hanging heavily in the sky. A single beam fell across Morticia’s eyes, making Gomez want what he was asking all the more as her beauty hit him like a rock.

“Querida, why not?” he asked, leaning across the small, iron table between them, nearly knocking over a glass in the process.

Morticia narrowed her eyes at him as she tucked a strand of raven hair behind her ear. “A nude portrait of me? Gomez, for one, I would hate for the children to see that, not to mention Fester, Lurch and your mother.”

“Then we’ll hang it in… our closet!”

Morticia shook her head.

“Our bathroom?”

“Gomez,” she laughed.

“I have it! The dungeon! We’re the only ones who go down there,” he said with a wicked grin. “Querida, that's the perfect spot!”

“Gomez, you’re being very silly,” Morticia said flippantly, swirling her dark wine in her glass.

“A small portrait then! I could keep it in my wallet!”

“Darling, I’m sure if I opened your wallet right now I would find several nude photographs of myself,” Morticia said with a smirk. “You have those in spades, why do you need it in paint?”

“The romance,” Gomez groaned, taking her hand in his. “The permanence, the artistry, to have something to pass on to our descendants!”

“Um, no, no to the passing it on,” Morticia said definitively. “And I’m rather surprised, to be honest. You seethe with rage if another person so much as glances at me in a lustful way. You do realize the painter will have to see me naked, correct?”

And just like that, all of Gomez’s hopes and dreams came crashing down around him. His face fell along with his mood, and Morticia instantly felt terrible from crushing him. That is until he perked back up as if he had been jabbed with an epipen. 

“Querida, I have it!” he cried, slapping his palms against the table, making the glasses rattle. “I’ll paint it!”

Morticia raised an eyebrow. “You? Since when do you paint?”

“How hard could it be?” he asked. “You do it all the time and they all look fantastic!”

“Yes… the fact that I do it all the time has something to do with that.” She smirked at him before finishing off her drink. “However, I can see how much you want this so if you paint it yourself on a small canvas that can be easily hidden, I would be happy to model for you, my love.”

Gomez’s face positively lit up. “Querida, yet again you have made me the happiest man alive! I’m going to go watch some Bob Ross videos!” He shot out of his seat and dashed back to the french doors leading to their bedroom.

“Gomez, I am not a happy little tree!”

…

The next night, Morticia walked into their bedroom to find a rather elaborate setup. The fireplace was roaring, candelabras were set up around the chaise lounge, which had a fur blanket draped over the back of it. The most alarming of all was the easel and canvas that was set up and waiting across from it.

“Oh no,” she muttered to herself. “I thought he forgot about this.”

“No such luck!” Gomez said loudly as he walked out of the bathroom behind her, wearing a beret and holding a paintbrush. “You will succumb to my artistic prowess.” 

“You really have your heart set on this, don’t you?” Morticia asked, reaching out to pat his cheek.

“Very much so,” he said, turning his face to kiss her palm. “Now, strip, my dearest.”

“So much romance,” she said sarcastically. “You’re lucky I just got waxed.” 

“You do love your waxing appointments,” he said with a laugh.

“What can I say, the pain is divine,” she said with a shrug. “Help me out of this, would you?”

Gomez eagerly reached forward before snapping his hand back. “Oh no, I want to do this as legitimately as possibly. Which means no distractions.”

Morticia stared at him for a moment in confusion. “But… you do realize I’m going to be naked, right?”

Gomez took in a deep breath, biting his lip. “I realize. And I’m going to power through.”

“Color me impressed,” Morticia said, reaching her arms around to maneuver down the zipper on the back of her dress.

“Tish with the puns,” Gomez laughed, his eyes on the ceiling as he desperately tried to avoid distraction.

“Should we have sex first so you can get it out of your system?” Morticia asked with a laugh. “I rather like that idea if I do say so myself.”

“Nope!” Gomez exclaimed, making his way to the easel. “I want to capture you just on that cusp, where your desire is at its peak.”

“It's hard to argue with that,” Morticia remarked, forcing the words past her throat. She hated to admit that she was nearly choking on her lust for him. 

Morticia had not expected this situation to be nearly as erotic as it was. Perhaps it was the power imbalance that was making her weak in the knees. How she was completely naked, bending to his will, even though it was something as innocent as posing for a painting was making her ache with need. Not that she really wanted Gomez to know that.

“Like this?” she asked, resting her chin on her fist as she lounged across the sofa.

“You would look beautiful in any position,” Gomez said sweetly as he started squirting paint onto his palate. 

“Oh?” Morticia asked with a smirk. “Even if I leaned my head back like this so I have a double chin?”

Gomez peered around the edge of the easel and grinned. “Still stunning, querida.”

“Liar.”

“I resent that.” He ducked back behind his canvas, hiding a smile as he did so. “Now, behave.”

“That's rich,” she laughed to herself. “Seriously though, is my position alright?”

Gomez looked at her once again before casting his palate aside and getting up. Gently, he moved her leg so it was crossing over the other. The motion made Morticia’s breath hitch in her throat, which Gomez noticed instantly. A smirk formed across his face as he reached up to adjust a lock of Morticia’s hair. “My darling… what is running through your brain right now?”

Morticia bit her lip, deciding to play coy rather than tell him what she was actually thinking. “I’m rather cold.”

His eyes zeroed in on her chest, his smirk turning into a full grin. “That's rather apparent. Now, let me do my job, querida mia. You’re distracting me.”

Morticia considered for a moment apologizing in French, but bit her tongue. It was clear Gomez wanted to take this seriously, she didn't have to be needlessly cruel when he wasn’t asking for it. So she stayed as still as a statue and allowed him to work his magic.

But while his wife was starting to relax, Gomez was growing more and more agitated. Apparently Morticia was right, it takes a bit more than binge watching Bob Ross videos to make one a painter. What he currently had slapped down in no way resembled Morticia. It in no way resembled anything, if he was being honest with himself. 

And it wasn’t as if this was a sketch with a pencil that he could erase and start over. No, this was very permanent and very, very bad. He was glad Morticia couldn’t see his face, because it was currently contorted in anger. He jabbed at the canvas rather roughly, flattening the bristles on his brush in the process. His end result was more of a perverted stick person than his goddess of a wife.

“You’re very quite,” Morticia commented after a while. He could hear the amusement in her voice and wasn’t quite ready to let onto the fact that he failed.

“I’m concentrating, my dearest.”

He just knew that she was smirking at him. Gomez should have known, he was always the one to say that Morticia is always right. As a distraction, he squirted out more black paint and tried desperately to fix the painting by making Morticia’s hair longer. This just resulted in his perverted stick figure now resembling Rapunzel.

Slowly, he peeked over the edge of the canvas to find Morticia, now looking a bit bored as she examined her nails. Instantly her eyes lifted to look at him. Gomez let out a long sigh, resting his chin on his fist. “You look so beautiful.”

“Thank you, darling,” Morticia replied, returning to her original pose. “How's the painting coming along?”

Gomez stood and set his painting tools down. He walked over and knelt down in front of Morticia, taking her hand in his. He lifted it to his mouth and pressed a lingering kiss to her alabaster skin. “Cara mia,” he sighed before kissing his way up her arm.

“I didn’t even say anything in French,” she mused quietly. “Did you finish?”

“Finish what?” he muttered against her skin.

“The painting, dear,” Morticia chuckled, shifting slightly on the sofa. “You know, the reason I’m naked and you’re fully clothed.”

“Or as I like to call it, a regular Tuesday night,” Gomez said with a wicked grin.

“You devil,” Morticia purred.

Gomez grinned before nipping at her neck. Unable to help herself, Morticia let out a soft moan, winding her arms around his shoulders. This is what she wanted the entire time after all. And her lack of insistence to get back to work was all he needed to dive in head first. Morticia smiled smugly to herself, tilting her head back so Gomez could better access her neck.

She moaned again, the feeling of his mustache brushing her skin sending goosebumps all across her flesh. She ran her hands down his back, wishing he wasn’t still fully clothed. She was all for the power imbalance when it was her with all the power, but this wasn’t going to do.

“Gomez,” she sighed as his hand slid across her stomach and up to cup her breast. “Darling, lose the suit.” 

Gomez smirked, lifting his head as he roughly pinched her nipple. “I don’t know, Tish. I’m sort of enjoying this.”

She squirmed under him, biting her lip as she glared up at him. “Oh, I’m sure you are.”

“You are as well, it's obvious,” he retorted, moving to position himself between her legs. He moved it so her knees were resting over his shoulders, a salacious grin on his face. “I think I am going to remain clothed up until the very last second.”

“I for one will be very impressed if your self control lasts that long,” Morticia shot back as she settled in to get comfortable. “Especially after you’ve been staring at me naked for so long.”

“I find your vanity wholly endearing,” Gomez said before slowly lowering his face, making Morticia gasp in shock at the abruptness of the contact. Gomez grinned to himself in smug satisfaction, loving the fact that he could bring that look to Morticia’s face.

“I would argue,” she gasped, her hips bucking up off the sofa. “But you’re right.”

He chuckled against her, which sent a chill up her spine. He didn’t respond but instead picked up the pace, making her eyes roll back and her legs shake. Morticia let out a low moan before biting her lip. Perhaps she was right, perhaps Gomez wasn’t going to last long fully clothed. The aching need to completely devour her was driving him mad. 

“Gomez,” she gasped, wrapping her legs around his head like a boa constrictor. “Don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he muttered, his voice muffled. In no time, he had Morticia shrieking, her sharp nails digging into the velvet of the sofa. He sat back to smile smugly down at her, waiting patiently for her breathing to return to normal. 

“Okay,” she sighed, sitting up and flicking a strand of hair from her face. “Your turn.” 

“Oh? What are you- oh,” he gasped as she lunged forward and pulled his zipper down. “Tish,” he groaned, leaning back to let her work her magic. 

“You know,” she muttered, ruefully pulling herself back. “This would be much better for you if you took your clothes off.”

“What ever you say, querida mia,” he gasped, jumping to his feet to quickly rid himself of his suit, completely forgetting that earlier he said he would be keeping his clothes on. He settled back in with an eager grin, mind firmly on the task at hand.

Morticia smirked before ducking back down, sliding her mouth around him. He gasped, fisting his fingers in her hair. The horrible attempt at painting was all but forgotten as Morticia quite literally made him see stars.

“You have quite a gifted mouth, my darling,” he moaned. She rolled her eyes up toward him, wordlessly accepting the compliment. That itself was almost his complete undoing. “Tish, you had better stop if you want the fun to continue.”

She slowly pulled herself off with a loud pop. Her red lipstick was slightly smudged, filling Gomez with an irresistible urge to lean forward and capture her in a rough kiss. Their teeth crashed, tongues tangling as he pulled Morticia into his arms. He lifted her effortlessly and carried her over to the bed, all the while still kissing her fervently. He may have stubbed his toe in the process, but he paid it no mind.

“I heard that thunk,” she muttered against his lips with a bemused smirk.

“What thunk?” he said with a laugh as he crawled over her. “I heard nothing.”

She glanced down past his shoulder to find a tiny blot of blood on his foot. “Then why is your extra toe bleeding?”

“That is solely for your benefit, querida mia,” he said with a roguish grin. “Now, where were we?”

“I believe you were about to fuck me into the mattress,” Morticia said matter of factly. 

“Ah, yes, allow me,” Gomez said before thrusting into her without much warning. 

Morticia cried out, her head falling back against the pillows. Gomez dug his fingers into her hips, lifting them off the bed to better slam into her. He grinned in satisfaction as he watched her eyes roll back. Watching her beneath him, he was reminded of what started all of this. Having a portrait of Morticia in this position right here would be marvelous.

It's just too bad that he really is a shitty painter.

“Querida, I’ll be honest, I’m not going to last long,” he panted, letting his head fall to the crook of her neck. He pressed his lips to her skin before playfully nipping at her neck. “All the waiting tonight was pure agony.”

“How do you think I felt?” she gasped, digging her nails into his back. “Naked and on display in front of you, yet you did nothing.”

“It was pure torture,” he replied, still roughly thrusting. His fingers clawed at the sheets beside Morticia’s head as she ripped his back to shreds. 

“I hope it was worth it,” Morticia hissed into his ear before biting his earlobe. 

Before he could tell her it totally wasn’t, they were both crying out in ecstasy as they collapsed into a heap on top of one another. Gomez eventually rolled to his back, reaching beneath his pillow for a cigar. It lit instantly and he took a long drag as Morticia settled beside him.

“So,” she eventually sighed. “Can I see it?”

“My dear, you were just up close and personal with it.”

Morticia laughed and playfully smacked his chest. “I meant the painting.”

“Oh… that, well I suppose I should show you.” He got off the bed and sheepishly made his way over to the easel. He plucked the canvas up and carried it over, feeling slightly nervous as he did so. “I tried my best.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” she said supportively.

Slowly he turned the canvas around, revealing the abomination of a painting. He watched as Morticia’s eyebrows lifted slightly, her hand reaching up to cover her mouth. He knew she thought it was amusing, but she was too polite to crush his dreams.

“You can say it, Tish, I already know,” he sighed.

“It's very…” she began, her voice cracking with contained laughter. “Are those my breasts?”

Gomez looked down at the two, lopsided circles on the stick figure’s chest. “Indeed.”

“And why are my nipples hot pink?”

“It was the only pink I had, querida.”

“Why is my hair that long?” she asked, chewing on the tip of her red nail.

“I took artistic license. That, and I thought it would distract from everything else.” He shrugged, looking down at the figure on the canvas. “I’ll go throw this in the fire now.”

“No, don’t do that,” Morticia laughed. “It really is very sweet, I don’t want you to burn it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well… maybe we’ll just keep it in the back of the closet and put this whole thing to rest. Now, come back to bed my darling Picasso,” Morticia said with a smile, reaching her hands towards him.

Gomez tossed the canvas behind him before leaping into her arms. “As you wish, my muse!”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated! I'm on Tumblr @helloitshaley if anyone wants to stop by to chat!


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